


chase the cold away

by professortennant



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode: s01e18 Solitudes, F/M, Pre-Relationship, post-ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 04:30:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14866646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professortennant/pseuds/professortennant
Summary: After Antartica, Sam can’t get warm. Despite the infirmary blankets and heated saline in the infirmary and the soft fleeces and flickering flames of the fire in her house, there is a chill in her bones–something that the heat of blankets and fire can’t chase away.And then Jack O'Neill touches her and she remembers warmth.





	chase the cold away

**Author's Note:**

> So, what i wanted to write was sam coming to jack's house because she couldn't get warm and she couldn't stop having nightmares about him and she slips in and is all shivery and cold. Jack says, 'Jesus, Carter,' and wraps her up in flannel and blankets and puts her in front of the fire. It's too much and Sam just cracks and burrows into him, confessing, "I thought I'd left you to die. I'm so sorry, sir. I'm so sorry." 
> 
> It all spills out and Jack wraps her up in his arms and rocks her back and forth and his lips brush against her neck and her breathing hitches and he does it again more purposefully and suddenly she's not close enough and she slips her hands beneath his flannel and she needs to feel flame-warmed skin and his mouth on her pulse. She needs to know they're alive and well and breathing and together and she gasps into his mouth, "Make me warm again, Jack. Please, please." He lays her out in front of the fireplace and strips her down and kisses her stomach and hips and thighs and breasts and neck and lips and he warms every inch of her with his hands and lips and tongue and teeth--anywhere he can reach.
> 
> But that would never happen in S1 so here we are.

After Antartica, Sam can’t get warm. Despite the infirmary blankets and heated saline in the infirmary and the soft fleeces and flickering flames of the fire in her house, there is a chill in her bones–something that the heat of blankets and fire can’t chase away. 

But her medical leave is up and she’s needed back on base. There are boxes and crates of alien tech that need to be catalogued and studied and, thanks to the alien technology at their disposal, the Colonel’s leg is as good as new, which means SG-1 will be sent through the Stargate soon. 

Another shiver ripples over her as she collapses into her chair in the briefing room across from Daniel and Teal’c, running a hand over her hair and the skin at the back of her neck, rubbing surreptitiously to hide her attempts at warmth. 

General Hammond and Colonel O’Neill stride into the room, the tail end of a hushed conversation finishing up hastily. Hammond takes his seat at the head of the table while the Colonel takes his usual seat beside her. His forearm brushes against hers and a new shiver passes over her as she remembers what his body against hers felt like.

_Chest to chest, her hand tucked inside of his, her nose pressed into his neck and shoulder, huddled close with nothing but body heat, hope, and US Air Force-issued jackets to keep them warm._

She shifts in her chair, clearing her throat, and adjusts her arm, presses closer. Something about the connection to him–however small– settles something inside her. Daniel grins at them all and launches into the briefing for their next mission to Altair. 

The Colonel leans in close to whisper in her ear, “He make you feel like you’re back in the Academy, Carter?” His voice is low and gravelly, his breath coming out in warm puffs against her ear.

_Ice and snow and the kind of stagnant cold that seeps beneath the skin press around them and she shifts closer to him, mindful of his ribs, mindful of his legs, mindful of the malfunctioning gate and broken DHD, mindful, mindful, mindful–_

_His voice rumbles against her ear, his hand on her shoulder squeezing gently. “I can hear you thinking from here, Carter.” His hand strokes down her arm and tugs her closer, wincing as her shoulder digs into his ribs. “Sleep,” he commands. “We’ll tackle it in the morning.” She clings to his use of ‘we’ and burrows into the warmth of his voice and body. It’s the last time she feels warm._

Flashing him a quick grin and a roll of her eyes, she ducks her head and murmurs out of the corner of her mouth, “Like a cadet, sir.”

He grins back at her, as if he’s proud that she engaged with him and his stupid joke. Daniel continues his lecture at the front of the room and Sam tries to listen–she does. Except the shivers are back and her tea in front of her has gone cold and she feels like she should be wrapped around the Colonel, protecting him. 

It’s a feeling she shouldn’t have–not for him, not for her commanding officer. And yet, without her realizing it, it grew there, took root in her heart in Antarctica–maybe before then–and she hadn’t been able to shake it. Like a secondary objective: Protect Jack O’Neill. 

She shivers again, her entire body shuddering, and the Colonel shoots her a look, covert and questioning. She refuses to look at him, refuses to be weak. Daniel can’t lecture for much longer, she thinks anxiously. She will make her excuses, shrug on the lab coat and blanket in her lab and make a fresh pot of tea and hope that the warmth will return. 

Beside her, the Colonel rolls his chair a little closer, stretches back and shifts. His leg presses to hers, his foot nudging against her own beneath the table, and his elbow and arm brush against hers. The touch is gentle, reassuring and she hears with that touch what he doesn’t speak aloud:  _Are you okay?_

She takes a deep breath and presses back in answer:  _Fine, sir._

With the Colonel close, his body against hers, Sam feels the chills ease, feels the ice in her skin melt. She feels  _warm_. 

“And so, with your permission General, I think we should leave for Altair and explore this structure.”

“Agreed. SG-1, you’ll move out at 0930. Dismissed.”

They stand in unison and Sam decides she’ll just read Daniel’s notes before the mission–she hadn’t taken in a single word he’d said. Teal’c, Daniel, and the General depart, going over the last details of the mission. She should follow, should listen and pick up what she missed.

But the Colonel’s hand wraps around her wrist and tugs gently, stopping her from leaving. His tactile nature took time to get used to and it’s only recently that he’s extended that tactility towards her. It’s heady and new and she shouldn’t like it half as much as she does. 

“Sir?”

His hand is still wrapped around her wrist and she wonders if he can feel her pulse beneath the thin skin there–wonders if maybe he’s as cold as she is, too? Maybe he needs this as much as she does. 

“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. That ice castle of ours wasn’t exactly an ideal vacation spot.”

She smiles softly at him, reassuring. “I’m fine, sir.”  _I can’t get warm._ Sam bites the words back. While she doesn’t think he’d take it as a sign of weakness, she doesn’t want to admit to him that Antarctica may have shaken her up more than she thought. 

The Colonel stares at her, brown eyes searching for something. There have been too many drill sergeants and misogynistic COs in her past to squirm now under his gaze, but she shifts her weight and juts her chin out, waiting. 

He grins at the gesture and swipes a thumb over the inside of her wrist before letting her go and escorting her to the door, a hand brushing over her lower back just briefly as he ushers her out. 

“Glad to hear it.” He pauses and stops at the threshold of the door and she stops with him, as in sync as ever. His hand settles on her shoulder, squeezing tightly, before dropping and tracing down her arm. She watches as his face softens, his eyes grow lighter, and her breath catches at the softness, the openness in his expression. 

“Thank you, Sam,” he says, his fingers dancing over her arm. Her skin tingles pleasantly and she ducks her head to hide her blush. Was she imagining an emphasis on her given name? 

She stands at attention and nods at him before walking away and tossing over her shoulder, “Anytime, sir.”

It’s not until she’s back in her lab that she realizes the ice is gone and that warmth is seeping into her bones, again. 

She could attribute it to the thousandth cup of tea she had earlier, but she knows the truth: Colonel Jack O’Neill has seeped into her bones, chased away the cold, and settled inside her, warmed her. 


End file.
